


1973 Autumn Day

by busaikko



Series: Autumn Stories [7]
Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: M/M, Scarves'n'hats 2005
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-10-26
Updated: 2005-10-26
Packaged: 2017-10-08 14:55:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/76814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/busaikko/pseuds/busaikko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The prompt was the poem <i>Autumn Day</i> by Rainer Maria Rilke: "Whoever has no house now will not build one anymore."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1973 Autumn Day

  
"What's gotten into you?" Remus said irritably. "You've been in a right mood ever since school started."

"Don't know," Sirius said, finally getting the needle through his acorn. He wiggled it a bit to make the hole larger. "Can't you use magic for this?"

"No," Remus said shortly. "Didn't you have a good summer, then?"

"Bloody brilliant." Sirius took the pointed bit of wood Remus had whittled for him with his quill-knife and began working it carefully into the hole. "James' parents took us down to the sea. Nothing but bathing and eating ice lollies and napping under umbrellas for two weeks. Best summer of my life." He got the stick through and handed it over to Remus for inspection. "But here's the thing, right. It wasn't my family. I mean, I was happy because it wasn't my family."

Remus had his knife out again and was fixing the point of the stick. "OK."

Sirius threw an acorn at his head, and it bounced off Remus' forehead with a loud _thok_. Remus stared at him, wide-eyed.

"Oh, _bugger_," Sirius said. He licked a finger and rubbed the bruising spot with spit. "I don't want to go home. I don't like my family. And I didn't even know it until this summer. It's… it's _wrong_. James loves his parents. You like your family, right?"

Remus shrugged. "They're all right."

Sirius hugged his knees to his chest. "My parents hate Mudbloods, half-bloods, half-_breeds_, people who work for a living, house elves, my cousin who married a Muggle-born, money-grubbing goblins, and blood traitors. They think that Squibs should be drowned if they don't show magic by age ten—don't look at me like that, I've heard my mother say it. 'Why didn't they drown him?' Like she doesn't understand. Well. She doesn't."

Remus gave Sirius' acorn top a spin: it wobbled a little on its axis. "When I," he said, and stopped. He picked up the top and gave it a harder turn, watching as the pointed end drew a crooked line in the dirt. "When I was bitten," he said finally, "the man from St Mungo's said that to my parents. 'No point in healing him. Just let him die.'"

"My parents would have," Sirius said flatly. "I'd _miss_ you if you were dead. I think I'll write your parents a letter. 'Dear Lupin's Mum and Dad, Thank you so much for keeping your smart-arse werewolf son, he is an, an, an attribute to the House of Gryffindor, and please send him some longer robes soon. Sincerely yours, Sirius Black.'"

"Asset. _Attribute_ makes me sound like I've got bosoms."

"Bosoms?" Sirius said, unwinding with speed. "I'll give you _bosoms_." He took up handfuls of acorns and threw himself on top of Remus, pinning him down as he forced the acorns between the buttons of his shirt.

Later, as Remus fished the last of the acorns out of his shirt, he looked over at Sirius, trying to fish the last acorns out of his _asset_ nonchalantly. "I can ask if you can come home with me over winter break."

"Nah," Sirius said, giving up and groping himself in a terribly obscene way. He dropped the last four acorns in the dirt. "It'll be all right. I just—I don't know how much longer I can listen to them and keep my mouth shut. They're _wrong_."

"I know," Remus said, picking up their tops and cradling them in the palm of his hand. "But you're all right."

"So are you," Sirius said. "I thought we were supposed to fight with those things."

"We can do that tomorrow," Remus said. "It's nearly dinner time." He dropped the tops carelessly into a pocket and ran the needle through his collar for safe-keeping. "Race you?"

"No, I'm too tired," Sirius said, and was already running when he shouted back, "—Oh, wait, I lied." He heard Remus tearing up the hill behind him and ran faster: everyone knew it was practically impossible to outrun Remus Lupin.


End file.
